


The Roses in Highgarden Never Grow Straight

by haiplana



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Beards, Canon Universe, Coming Out, Everyone Is Gay, F/F, Fake Marriage, Fluff, Highgarden is a Gay Paradise, Humor, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2020-05-14 07:03:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19268209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haiplana/pseuds/haiplana
Summary: Highgarden is the gayest place in all of Westeros — or so Loras and Margaery Tyrell boast. As soon as Loras’ new bride Sansa learns this, she begins to feel even more out of place than she already had. However, when Margaery takes a deeper interest in her new sister by law, Sansa finds that Highgarden after hours isn’t all that daunting.That is until Renly Baratheon and his guard arrive, ragged, at the gates of Highgarden after King Robert finally ousted him for his transgressions. With him is stoic Lord Commander Brienne of Tarth, a would-be knight sworn to serve her childhood hero. Brienne experiences a culture shock upon entering the gates of Highgarden, and while she tries to fight the surfacing of feelings once buried deep down, she can’t help but lose the battle when she sees the riveting Sansa Stark of Winterfell.Loras and Renly, finally able to be together, watch with amusement as Brienne and Margaery vie for Sansa’s affections.





	The Roses in Highgarden Never Grow Straight

**Author's Note:**

> wow this is A Mess. It's my second WIP so likely it won't be updated for a minute. Also it's unedited, sorry

_**Sansa** _

“So, how did it go?”

Of all the voices Sansa Stark thought she would wake up to the morning after her wedding, that of Margaery Baratheon was the last on her list. She turned her head towards the voice, keeping her eyes closed and retinas protected from the bright southern light, and listened closely.

“It was… fine.” Her new husband of only hours, Loras Tyrell, Knight of the Flowers and Heir to Highgarden, whispered sharply to his sister in the sitting room. Sansa blinked her eyes open now. The floral screens separating the bedroom from the sitting room were slightly parted.

“That doesn’t sound encouraging,” Margaery said.

“What do you want from me? You knew it was going to be _difficult_.”

Margaery tutted. “I'm hoping you at least made an effort.”

“I did,” Loras said.

“Is there a chance of a child?”

A pause. “Not likely.”

“ _Loras_.” Margaery sighed and passed the divide of the parted screens. She was in a turquoise dress, low cut and flowing at the bottom. Sansa liked that dress. She hoped to have one like it soon, now that she was a Lady of Highgarden like Margaery. “Did she enjoy any of it, at least?”

“Yes. I was… gentle, at first, and when it wasn’t working, I did other things.” Loras’ voice was soft, just as it had been the night before.

Sansa let out a breath and rolled onto her back, letting her eyes fall closed. She remembered the way Loras’ hands had stroked her everywhere, respectfully touched gentle areas, and used his fingers to coax a release she had waited all her life for. Perhaps it wasn’t the way her mother said it would be, and perhaps it didn’t serve its purpose, but Sansa cared little for the purpose when there were other possibilities.

“I’m proud of you, little brother. You’re a good man,” Margaery said.

“I’m not.” Loras sounded frustrated now. Sansa could imagine him running a hand through his curls. “We’ll have to tell her.”

Sansa’s brow furrowed, and she shifted in bed, ready to hear more. She opened her eyes, and Margaery was visible through the empty space between the screens. Her head was turned towards the bed, green eyes on Sansa. Well, she was caught, now, and would have to rise.

Margaery walked towards and bedroom and pushed the screens further open. She sat on the edge of the bed and reached a hand out to stroke and smooth Sansa’s red hair. “Good morning, little flower. How did you sleep?”

Sansa smiled. “Very well, thank you.” She pressed a hand to her stomach just as a barely audible rumble came out. “Is there breakfast?”

“Of course. Loras and I were just going to wake you for it. Get dressed, and we will eat in the garden.”

 

* * *

 

_**Margaery** _

Loras and Renly barely lasted five minutes at breakfast. It was honestly sad, and a bit insulting to Lady Sansa, but she supposed it was for the best. Another moment with the two men staring at each other longingly and Margaery thought she would throw up. Shortly they were off, nearly trotting on the gravel path towards the castle, no doubt looking for the first room to tumble into, pants already off. Margaery laughed to herself.

“What is it?”

She was reminded that the clueless Sansa, with her wide blue eyes, was still at the table. Margaery sipped her tea. “Our husbands have such a strong bond. A true connection. It’s beautiful, two men so _close_.”

“I suppose,” Sansa said. “Robb and Jon and Bran and Rickon got on so well together. It is good for Loras to have someone so much like a brother in Renly.”

“Yes, a brother.”

They finished their meal chatting about the wedding — how beautiful Sansa had looked in her dress of green and rose, how charming Loras was in his beautiful golden vest, how fantastic the food and music were. Sansa commented on the beauty of the gardens, the expanse of the yard around the castle. She had seen much wilderness at Winterfell, but none so tame as the sprawling Highgarden yards. Margaery found her exoticness quite charming.

She also loved to look at those blue eyes as they scanned the hedges and trees surrounding them, so full of wonderment.

After they finished, Margaery proposed a walk in the garden, and Sansa agreed, but needed to go back to her room and remove one of her layers — she still wasn’t used to dressing for the Reach’s climate, even warmer and drier than King’s Landing. Margaery followed her inside as they made their way to Loras’ room.

Behind the door, Margaery heard the telltale huffs and sighs of her brother and her husband. Sansa reached for the door handle.

“I wouldn’t go in there.”

Sansa stopped and turned around, a crinkle to her brow. “Why not?”

“Listen.” Margaery moved closer to the door and pressed a finger to her lips. Both women listened for a moment. Margaery heard Renly laugh breathlessly before crying out. “Let’s give them a moment and then I’ll have Loras meet us in the garden. Leave your overcoat in my room in the meantime.”

Half an hour later, just as they were reaching one of the gazebos overlooking an expansive lake, Loras strutted down the pathway. He looked better than he had that morning.

“My dearests, please sit. Don’t wait for me.” He was huffing a bit — he had obviously rushed to meet them. Margaery nodded to Sansa and bid her to sit at the small table inside the gazebo. He finally made it and sat next to Margaery, draping his arm around the back of her chair.

“Where to begin,” Margaery said softly.

“My Lady Sansa, I have interesting news for you,” Loras started, a small grin in the corner of his mouth. “Well, news to you, but not to me, or Margaery, or really anyone for that matter.”

Sansa shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

“To get to the point, I guess I should say that Highgarden is a place like no other. Here, we celebrate love rather than choose to define it and confine it.” Loras ran a hand through his hair. “And, Lord Renly and I are in love.”

 

* * *

 

_**Sansa** _

Sansa thought she gasped, but she was too frozen to breathe, let alone make a noise. Her mouth was parted, her eyes wide. Loras looked at her a bit guiltily. Sansa’s eyes shifted to Margaery, who was only looking at her as sweetly as usual, doe eyes soft and smile inviting.

All of a sudden, discomfort curled in Sansa’s belly. “You— you’re… in love?”

“Well, yes.”

“And you…”

“Make love? Yes.” Loras didn’t seem the least bit uncomfortable.

Sansa looked back to Margaery. “Did you know about this?”

“Of course.” Margaery laughed and stroked a hand through her brother’s curls. “Loras is my baby brother. He tells me everything. He was lucky, too, that my grandmother thought it prudent to marry me to Lord Renly, for now he has a reason to be at Storm’s End nearly year-round.”

Sansa sat back in her chair, forgetting all propriety and decorum. The air was pushed completely out of her lungs, and she wasn’t quite sure when she would get it back.

“Grandmother wants what is best for her family, both in love and standing. She found the perfect deal to give House Tyrell a tie to the crown and give me a life worth living,” Loras said.

“Lady Olenna knows?” Sansa squeaked, well and truly baffled.

“Yes, of course. Grandmother introduced me to my first female lover, Lady Delia of House Prym.” Margaery lowered her eyes in reverie, a small smile on her face. “She only wishes for us to enter ‘proper’ marriages to keep up appearances.”

“Wouldn’t want to be a cliche, what with the flower sigil and all,” Loras commented. “Like I said, Highgarden chooses to celebrate love—”

“And sex,” Margaery said.

“Yes, we focus on pleasure and happiness rather than abiding by strict and unnecessary rules.”

Sansa swallowed thickly. It felt as though a fist were gripping her insides. “Is everyone in Highgarden… queer?”

The Tyrell siblings looked at each other and laughed, fully, for a few moments. Then, they turned back to Sansa with deathly looks on their faces.

“Yes,” Margaery said.

Loras scoffed. “We aren’t, one might say, Dorne, but many in Highgarden’s court go both ways, at the very least.”

Margaery nodded along. “Especially in the younger generations, since we have lived without Targaryen influence for almost all our lives.”

Sansa took a breath, her head swimming. The air in the garden became sickeningly sweet. She felt as though she were going to faint. Once, she may have thought that Highgarden would be a safe haven, a place where she might finally belong. It seemed then that she was an outsider once again.


End file.
